


Ten Times General Hux Could Not Kriffing Believe He Was Fucking that Undisciplined Skywalker Scum

by matchsticks_p (matchsticks)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Workplace Relationship, content warning for in-character ideologies in keeping with the First Order, ends with a Poe/Finn "plus one time"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchsticks/pseuds/matchsticks_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever Kylo Ren throws a dramatic tantrum over something inconsequential, Hux grits his teeth and very carefully does not think about the 500+ hours of leadership training he has completed or the zero hours Ren has done because his mommy happens to be General Organa.</p><p>General Hux has workplace issues. Meaningless sex does not help solve them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Times General Hux Could Not Kriffing Believe He Was Fucking that Undisciplined Skywalker Scum

**Author's Note:**

> plus one time Finn may have turned the tide of the war by knowing all about it.

**1.** This thing they do, whatever it may be called, begins as an elegant solution to a repulsive problem. Casual copulation between two high-ranking members of the Order is a perfectly logical way to manage pesky biological impulses. 

Hux likes it clean and neat. He can't stand it when Kylo Ren cries afterwards, sometimes. And he _really_ can't stand it when Ren makes references to this thing they do outside of their scheduled appointments. He has a nagging suspicion that Ren does it precisely because he knows how much Hux hates it. 

It's entirely unnecessary, the way he will sometimes raise an eyebrow to make a perfectly reasonable turn of phrase into a filthy double entendre. The winks he will sometimes send Hux at the most inopportune moments go beyond unnecessary straight into decadence. And Hux would sacrifice his right testicle to a sarlacc to forget that time Ren lounged around in the shadows striking a pose that was meant to be...dashing? Seductive? One leg up on a shipping pallet with his crotch thrust slightly forward, one hand on his hip, the other hand running through his dark tousled hair—why the skrog was his helmet not on—doing some sort of subtle licking thing involving his lips. Hux vaguely recognizes its intention from the contraband holovids they all watched as adolescents anyway. 

Disgusting nonsense.

 **2.** "Yes, yes, how nice for you that you're force-sensitive. _Some_ of us got to our positions by working hard and rising through the ranks and not having magical blood, but you wouldn't know what that's like, would you? Some of us outrank you, and yet _some of us_ still have to stand shoulder to shoulder with you when talking to the Supreme Leader. Not on a platform higher than you. Not even one step slightly ahead of you. Directly next to you, like we're equals, even though I'm a full general and don't even have an official title, because Supreme Leader Snoke, in all his infinite wisdom, thinks you're some sort of _elite warrior_. What kind of elite warrior weeps openly about his grandfather every night, huh? Answer me that," Hux screams silently to himself, as he lies awake staring fixedly at where the ceiling would be if his quarters weren't pitch black.

 **3.** He hates that kriffing lightsaber. 

Outmoded technology, and inefficient. Ren just uses it to show off. Rumour is that he built it himself, which explains why it's absolute shit. 

Kylo Ren loves the drama of it. Once, after catching a fugitive who had attempted to sow insurrection amongst the First Order's very own troops, instead of her immediate execution Ren had arranged for all of the deployed foot soldiers to form a circle around them. He had tossed the fugitive a weapon of her own and informed her that they would fight to the death. 

The air hummed with the lightsaber's power as he activated it. And in the moment right before the duel began, in the unbroken silence that hung still and tense with anticipation, Hux had unholstered his standard issue blaster and shot the fugitive scum neatly through the forehead.

"There. Done. Mission accomplished. Everybody back on the ship."

As the stormtroopers marched past him to file onto their transport, Ren stood useless as a pile of rocks with his lightsaber still out, staring at Hux. The look on his face literally felt better than all the sexual congress they have ever engaged in. 

 

 **4.** General Hux does not wear a mask because he does not need a mask. He is more disciplined than anybody in the whole of the First Order, and his expressions are so well-controlled, his emotions are so regulated, that his face can function as his mask. 

But oh, for the love of all things sacred, is it ever hard sometimes.

Whenever Kylo Ren throws a dramatic tantrum over something entirely inconsequential, Hux feels one very specific vein start to twitch near his eye. He has to grit his teeth and very carefully not think about the 500+ hours of leadership training he has completed or the zero hours Ren has done because his mommy happens to be General Organa, because if he thinks about it then it would fucking show on his perfect fucking First Order mask of a face rights before he claws it off with his own hands.

 **5.** "Excuse me," General Hux says with flawless aplomb to the group of twelve stormtroopers that he and Kylo have been giving contradictory orders to for the past ten minutes.

He steps gracefully to the side and into the open door of an engine service room, hardly breaking his stride at all, and closes it delicately behind himself. 

And then he screams "KRONGING SKROGGING FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK" in the privacy of his tiny service room, muffled by the reassuringly standard noises of one of the many throbbing engines sustaining the Starkiller base. 

"Who even gives a fuck who his grandfather is," he yells, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars, "Who gives a flying fuck about the Force. I am a full kronging general, I am in charge of the combat readiness of all personnel and all droids and all weapons on the entire kriffing base. _Fuck_ this stupid Knights of Ren business. How is _he_ the leader when _I have to train them too_?!"

He pants steadily for sixty standard seconds to re-saturate his blood with oxygen. He deems himself ready when his pants sound more like deep breaths than wet gasps.

He runs a hand down the front of his wrinkle-free uniform and steps back out the door. The dozen stormtroopers have been waiting obediently. Kylo Ren has been...lounging, or something. "Pardon me," Hux says with a thin smile. "Do carry on."

 **6.** Kylo Ren is having yet another of his violent emotional breakdowns. A messenger has delivered some news to his displeasure, and Ren lacks the self-control of even their youngest stormtroopers. He cannot reign in his emotions, and instead he pulls out his abysmal lightsaber and begins hacking up the nearest console in rage.

Safely out of range of his most unseemly outburst, Hux watches from a different deck with his arms clasped behind his back. The equipment Ren is destroying isn't irreplaceable—merely temperature and humidity controls for the area. Still, he knows that Ren will not have to be in charge of its cleanup, for the reporting of its disrepair, or for filling out the paperwork that will get them the funding to replace everything he has broken. No, that will fall to him, the fully functioning general who has never fallen prey to a single fit of passion in his entire military career. 

Hux would curl his lip in disgust if he weren't, _unlike some people_ , too disciplined to show any emotion. 

**7.** "Why do we, the most impeccably ordered superior faction, bringing control and light into a dark universe of chaos, allow that...that... _nerf-herding sith-hole_ to keep _a skull_ on the base?!" Hux quietly demands of his ceiling.

"And why does that vile skull get to have its own room? Why do I, a full general who has never in my life cried about the identity of my parents, only have a one-room office, while he gets a whole extra room just for sulking in? I mean honestly, Vader's helmet is very impressive, I suppose, but it has bits of skull smashed into it. It's attracting insects. It can't be hygienic. _And he talks to it_."

The ceiling, a stronger man than Kylo Ren could ever be, remains compliantly silent. 

**8.** After seventeen standard minutes of screaming into his hands about the incompetence of Kylo Ren, the uncouthness of his personage, the incompetency of his military strategizing, the mediocrity of his lovemaking technique, and the general who-the-fuck-even-cares-ness of his lineage, Hux puts himself back together and exits the small supply closet he sought refuge in.

Upon closing the door behind himself with perfect poise, he belatedly remembers that supply closets, unlike engine rooms, are not soundproofed.

The stormtroopers milling around the hallway outside all look away from him, pointedly turning their heads toward the floor or the walls or down at whatever happens to be in their hands. One even begins whistling. 

"Stop that," he snaps. "Music is a useless and filthy habit."

The trooper stops.

Hux's face is the calmest and stoniest it has ever been, as he meditates the hardest he has ever meditated on the beauty of the perfect order that they are going to bring to the galaxy and ignores the look heavy with sexual meaning that he can tell Kylo Ren is shooting him even through his helmet. 

**9.** After a few more incidents of accidentally un-soundproofed venting, which Hux honestly attributes to sheer bad luck more than anything, Kylo Ren, who is the actual source of the problem, dares to speak to Hux about it.

"It's just a bit unprofessional," Kylo Ren, the man who bursts into tears whenever someone breathes the word Solo, says to him, General Hux, the paragon of professionalism. "It's unbecoming of a First Order general, and besides that I think it's starting to affect morale. You're not exhibiting the kind of stoic leadership the men need." And then Kylo fucking Ren has the nerve to lay a gentle gloved hand on Hux's upper arm and squeeze softly. "I'm concerned about you," he says.

For just a moment, Hux feels so much uncontainable fury that he might genuinely have to recuse himself from the First Order and go become a pirate on the Outer Rim. It burns through him like he's a primitive savage incapable of higher order thinking. "Would you please excuse me," he murmurs, voice strained, choked.

And then he speed-walks to the hangar, where pilots scatter out of his way, and commandeers a TIE fighter for a spin or twelve around the Starkiller base so he can scream into the comforting abyss of space. 

**10.** Hux blames the accursed Vader spawn for his lack of foresight and poor planning. He has never planned a thing poorly before. Ren is a bad influence.

The time has come for their regular bi-weekly coupling, and his body is ready, but neither of them remembered to book the conference room they usually use and Captain Phasma now has an entire squadron of new troopers in there, viewing propaganda holovids. Hux absolutely refuses to let Ren into his private quarters, and now that he's learned his lesson and taken the time to memorize exactly which rooms are and are not soundproofed on this kriffing base, he knows that his office would not be amenable to any noisy activities.

Kylo takes it upon himself to solve the problem by pulling him bodily into his sulk room.

"Come on," he says removing his helmet and undoing his belt. "Why are you just standing there? Take your clothes off."

"I really, really don't want to do this in front of...the skull." Hux is having serious doubts as to whether he can even sustain an erection in such close proximity to Vader's old headgear. 

Ren has the audacity to roll his eyes at him. "It can't see you; it's dead." Says the man who snivels to it all the time.

Hux doesn't take his uniform off, but he doesn't stop Kylo either when he starts doing it for him, undoing his trousers and pulling them down around his ankles. Kylo palms at the hardness just beginning to tent his underwear and Hux bites down on a groan.

"Don't be so prudish," Kylo says. "Honestly, grandfather would probably love it anyway. Another thing to bring me closer to the dark side," he smirks, before mouthing at Hux's crotch through the thin fabric of his shorts. It leaves a damp patch.

"Stop. Talking." Hux begs through clenched teeth.

"Come on, Hux, do it for the Order," Kylo says, unmistakably outright laughing at him. He reaches into his underwear and pulls Hux's cock out, briefly into the cold air and then directly into the warm velvet heat of his mouth.

It turns out Hux was wrong. All-encompassing hate and anger actually make his erections stronger.

**Bonus +1:**  
After he's healed sufficiently, Finn is brought into as many strategy meetings as his still-weakened body can stand, because his firsthand intel on the First Order is incredibly valuable to the Resistance. Those are the words everyone keeps stressing to him, like he doesn't know, like he hasn't heard it literally a hundred times since he woke up: "your firsthand intel on the First Order is incredibly valuable to the Resistance." 

He's given at place at the table with all of the senior officers, only two spots away from General Organa herself. Even Poe, the highest ranked pilot in the whole fleet, sits one seat further away. 

He tells them everything he can think of that could possibly help. Every last memory he can dredge up about the monotonous flat grey of his life before, punctuated occasionally by blood red. And they're grateful, but they're always wanting _more_. More that can help them bring down their enemies. Something that can help them deliver a really significant blow. 

"Well, there is one—" Finn's mouth snaps shut against the one suggestion he's been too hesitant to say yet. It just sounds so...stupid. Embarrassing. 

"Go on," General Organa says, calm and measured and soothing. 

Finn squirms. He really doesn't want to have to say the word 'hatefucking' to her lovely face. 

Poe reaches across to clasp his hand and give it an encouraging squeeze. He has a charming nod to go with it, too, and even a hint of a twinkle in his eye. Finn still doesn't know much about being a sentient being with free will, but he's starting to understand what all that fuss about romance was about in the contraband holovids that literally everybody snuck in. 

Finn finds his courage and says, "There might be one weak spot we haven't exploited yet. General Hux's professional dissatisfaction was kind of legendary across the entire Order. Everybody knew he was—" he realizes in the middle of his sentence that he _really_ can't say the word 'hatefucking,' because Leia Organa is Kylo Ren's _mom_. He coughs, then chokes on his cough, then hurriedly fumbles for the water Poe slides across the table at him. "Everybody knew he was very unhappy with Kylo Ren's constant promotion over him. He thought it was unfair." 

General Organa huffs out some air in a sound that might be a laugh, but not a laugh like anything Finn has ever heard before. 

"Alright then," she says sardonically, and for a moment she sounds so much like Han Solo that Finn has to clutch at Poe's hand again. "Guess we have to draw up some plans for using our meritocracy to seduce Hux away from the First Order." 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my best beloved C, and for people who know what it's like to be undervalued and overlooked in a toxic work environment. Not actually for people who believe in order through military violence, don't get it twisted. Feedback gratefully appreciated here or [on tumblr](http://riseagainphoenix.tumblr.com/post/136858679562/ten-times-general-hux-could-not-kriffing-believe).


End file.
